


A Hint of Chrysanthemum

by happinesssdeceit (crescenttwins)



Category: RustBlaster
Genre: Gen, Imported, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-06
Updated: 2009-06-06
Packaged: 2018-12-14 07:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crescenttwins/pseuds/happinesssdeceit
Summary: Aldred can't remember his parents, but it wasn't coincidence that Kain adopted him.





	A Hint of Chrysanthemum

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to FFN!

_The Church is preparing a vessel, the dhampirs whisper._

_They can see it in the gleam of the priests' eyes, in the way they have become obsessive these days, looking for a child that can (will) becoming the lance. The Church is too proud to admit that they are struggling, that there is a child but he is beyond their reach._

_The dhampirs are not so proud. Every one of them can feel it coming, the splitting of the twin moons. They have only fifteen years until the next split; each one of them can feel the seconds ticking away (lost) in their bones. It drives them mad with fear, with the threatening presence of the vampires just above their heads, waiting to break through the gates and feed._

_Only the children are free of the terror, and this is what amplifies their need for the wielder. Their children can not sense the world that will come crashing down on them, and the vampires are more long-lived than their half-breed brethren. It will not matter if their children were born during the war or a thousand years after; if they are dhampirs, if they are human, the vampires will devour them. They say that the Millennium Academy is teaching young vampires to fight, but it is wrong. Their children are not vampires (will never be vampires). Their children will never be the monsters that vampires truly are._

_None of their children will be, except the wielder._

_It has been almost a millennium since the last wielder surfaced. Lore says that he was more vampire than dhampir, and that he grew mad with power until the lance was torn apart. It is the reason the Church disdains dhampirs so—they destroyed the holy lance the first time._

_Time changes all things, however; and humans are not so long-lived that their grudges are sustained as well. Bloodlines die out so quickly with them. The priests now are more corrupt than the priests of the past, less holy, but their determination has carried throughout time. The priests will supply the lance._

_But all will be lost if they can not find the wielder of the holy lance._

Aldred doesn't remember his parents. Not really, anyway.

Sometimes at night, when he's really tired, he thinks he hears a lullaby and a faint smell of chrysanthemums. They remind him of home and belonging and dreams; he cherishes them more than memories. They play with his senses, always dancing out of grasp when he slips into sleep.

When he wakes up, though, the lyrical words shimmer away from him in the hazy dawn. The smell lingers, though, and that is all that he needs to know that he is missing something that he really, truly, wants.

He never tries to ask Kain van Envurio. It would be rude to ask about a spectral of the (maybe) past.

But it takes him a long time to call Kain "Dad", anyway.

_Kain searches when the moon is full and all the adult dhampirs can feel its crushing presence._

_There are rumors of a boy, a child without a lineage weapon in the East. Kain knows how easily his time could be wasted on hearsay, but he leaves nevertheless._

_The boy's name is Dredal._

_Kain is not expecting much, but the time is coming closer and closer and he fears it will come before he finds the child he needs._

Being in a boarding school is fun—easier than normal, even, because his friends are always around him. They make him feel like he has a family, a real one, and not just his adoptive father and he.

Kain tries too hard (to fake real emotion), and Aldred can tell. He doesn't like it, but he can tell, and the false affection smothers him. It is nothing like what he gets from his friends, and Aldred tries not to flinch when Kain comes near. Because Kain is trying, and that is all that really matters for Aldred.

He doesn't have a family, but he has an almost one (a kid and a sort-of-dad) and they'll get along. Even if Kain hugs him when normally people don't (not even the touchy kind) and is too excited to see him, Aldred appreciates it and wants Kain to get that.

And when he thinks about that, it makes him ache a little bit less when his friends talk about  _home_ and  _family_.

_Dredal is a two year-old with a bright smile and an excited crawl._

_As the rumors say, he has no lineage weapon. Something close to regret bubbles in Kain's chest, because this tiny boy will wield the lance and he will undoubtedly become obsessed with the lance's blood. Then the lance will die and this little child will follow._

_Dredal's parents know that, and they love him too much to give him up. They love him much, much more than they should, more than the world itself._

_They love him more than life itself, and Kain proves that when he tears out their necks._

_Dredal stares at him with red eyes._

His name has been commented on enough times that Aldred thinks that he was named after a bishop from a long, long time ago.

Aldred doubts it, but it makes them stop thinking about what his  _last_  name might actually be, so he lets them at it.

_Kain can not call him Dredal. It would, perhaps, spark memories that he would hate the dhampirs for, and it would not be the least of their worries if he wielded the lance against them._

_He can't forget the look in the eyes of Dredal's dying parents, however._

_Kain thinks that maybe his parents would have wanted him to have a link to his past._

_So Kain plays with the name, for a little while, and finally decides what to call the child (who was Dredal but can never be again)._

The taunting scent of chrysanthemum taunts Aldred's nose, and he looks up, certain that it will fade but curious nevertheless.

He stares at Kain, and all the little pieces click together in his head.

And this time it's Aldred who starts the hug, quietly solemn and pleased and a little bit sad it wasn't his mother who he was remembering. It was something different than he expected, but it was  _something_.

And then he smiles and says, "Hey, Dad."

_Kain calls him Aldred._


End file.
